


Pied Flats Omega Breeding Center

by Things_I_Will_Not_Admit_I_Wrote



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Branding, Breeding, Castration, Child Abuse, Dark, Dehumanization, Forced Pregnancy, Gang Rape, Impregnation, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Objectification, Sadism, Sexual Violence, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 08:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10918458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Things_I_Will_Not_Admit_I_Wrote/pseuds/Things_I_Will_Not_Admit_I_Wrote
Summary: John’s hand pressed into the small of Dean’s back, pushing him forward to the reception desk of Pied Flats Omega Breeding Center.  Sam’s hand clutched at Dean, small and sweaty and desperate to keep hold of his brother.“I’m dropping off Dean Winchester. He’s starting his Duty,” John said, leaning on the desk and smiling at the female receptionist.





	Pied Flats Omega Breeding Center

John’s hand pressed into the small of Dean’s back, pushing him forward to the reception desk of Pied Flats Omega Breeding Center. Sam’s hand clutched at Dean’s hand, small and sweaty and desperate to keep hold of his brother. 

“I’m dropping off Dean Winchester. He’s starting his Duty,” John said, leaning on the desk and smiling at the female receptionist. One of the Center’s doctor stood behind the desk too, some folders in his arms, as he gave the Winchesters an uninterested look. 

“Dean Winchester?” the receptionist frowned as she tapped away at her computer. The doctor peered over her shoulder at the computer screen. “OK, so we don’t have any record of your bloodwork.”

“No,” Dean muttered. “I haven’t, uh, I didn’t get a chance to do that.”

The beta receptionist gave him a reproving smile, “That’s fine, but it will mean there’ll be a delay in your processing.”

“A delay? How long?” John asked, preparing to kick up a fuss. 

“Oh, you won’t have to stay for that. It just means that it’ll take longer to get him settled into his new home. I’ve let the Caretakers know you’re here. Thank you,” she looked at Dean, “Omega Winchester, for serving your Duty.”

Dean could already hear the clack of the Caretakers’ shoes on the pristine floors of the clinic. He swallowed nervously and bent down to say goodbye to his little brother just as two Caretakers in dark uniforms come into the foyer. 

“You’ll come home soon! You have to!” Sam cried, his eyes were wet but he hadn’t started crying. Dean had been preparing him for this since the day Dean had Presented and realized he’d have to leave Sam when he turned eighteen and would have to serve his Duty. 

“I promises I’ll be back as soon as I can, Sammy,” Dean glanced at the Caretakers as one of them took an ominous step towards him. “Don’t forget that I love you.”

Dean gave Sam a hug, his arms squeezing him tightly but briefly, and then stood up, ready to walk away from his family and serve his country by giving birth to five babies. 

“Do me proud,” John said gruffly. Dean nodded in response.

#### Dean’s story

The Caretakers led him to a room at the back of the clinic, where a female doctor was waiting for them. She was sitting at her desk, impatiently tapping her pen against a stack of papers. 

“Finally!” she said, rolling her eyes as the Caretakers ushered him into the room, closing the door behind them. There were no windows in the doctor’s office. “Strip.”

Dean blinked, his heart skipping a beat. He’d heard stories about Breeding Centers. He knew he was going to be alright, as long as he kept his head down and didn’t draw attention to himself. 

He pulled off his T-shirt and put it on the examination table then bent over to untie his shoes. 

“Those jeans would look good on my nephew,” the doctor said contemplatively, “What size were you?”

“What do you mean, were?” Dean asked, pulling his jeans down and taking off his socks at the same time. All that was left was his briefs. 

The doctor sighed in annoyance. 

“Hand me those, will you?” she said to the Caretaker on Dean’s right. 

Dean had to bite his cheek as the man took his jeans and handed them to the doctor. She peered at them, twisting them around until she found the label. With a nod of satisfaction, she folded them up and put them in one of the drawers of her desk. 

“Those are mine,” Dean said quietly. He didn’t want to be labelled a troublemaker, but this woman was stealing his jeans!

“You don’t wear clothes here,” the doctor said, not bothering to look at him as she answered. 

“I’ll need them when I leave.” 

The doctor gave a small smile and picked up a sealed package from her desk. “Sit down on the examining table and let me explain this to you. Every clinic is different. Different states have different laws, and each clinic has a different... ethos, if you will.”

She opened the package and Dean saw that, inside it, was a needle and syringe. 

“Stay still now,” she said, stepping towards the examining table and grabbing hold of his left arm. She had latex gloves on and they felt slippery and inhuman against Dean’s skin. The needle was pushed into him as she started to draw his blood. Dean looked at the woman, but the doctor’s eyes were on the needle; Dean looked down and saw his blood pouring into the plastic vial. “Everyone knows that an omega doing its Duty is likely to be stressed. It wouldn’t be a Duty if it were easy!”

She laughed as she took the needle out of him and patted his injured skin. “But that does mean that here, in Pied Flats, we get to do want we want and no one is particular bothered if some meg thinks their Duty was too difficult. Now, if I ever hear your voice again, I’ll cut your tongue out. Do you understand?”

Dean, caught between fear and rage, stared at her. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and giggled. Dean’s eyes widened: he didn’t know if she was joking or not, but he didn’t want to find out. The doctor calmly sat back at her desk and began to write out the label for the vial of his blood.

“One last thing before you go,” she opened a drawer and took out what looked like a staple gun, except that, on the side of the handle, there was a little electric screen. 

“Let me see, what are you?” she leaned forward and squinted at her computer screen. “497, huh?” she muttered to herself as she turned the staple gun over and started tapping at the little screen. 

She stood up, the staple gun poised in her hand. 

“Well? Head down!” she barked imperiously, Dean didn’t have a chance to move because one of the Caretakers grabbed the back of his head and forced him forward and down so quickly that it took Dean a second to realize what had happened to him. 

There was a loud clicking sound and something pushed against the back of his neck. The Caretaker’s hand was still on the back of his head, grabbing onto his hair. 

The Caretaker to Dean’s left grunted a question, but Dean couldn’t make out the words. 

“Hmm,” the doctor’s gloved fingers trailed along the back of his neck, and Dean shivered. “Yes, the newer models take up to a week longer for full fusion with the vertebrae, but there's less risk of infection or paralysis.” She tapped her finger against the hot, sensitive spot on the back of his neck where she’d just chipped him. “Of course, I always thought that was a win-win. No-one ever comes to claim a paralysed meg, so they spend the rest of the lives serving their Duty, but then, I wasn’t the one that had to feed them and clean up their shit for years on end.” 

She sighed and moved away.

“All done,” she said proudly as she opened the door and held it open for the Caretakers to herd Dean out of the room.

“You don’t want to watch Jacob?” one of the Caretakers asked, sounding surprised.  
The doctor smiled, flicking an unreadable look at Dean. “Give me a second and I’ll come with you to the cowsheds. I’ll just give this,” she held up the vial of Dean’s blood, “To Nancy.”

She walked down the corridor, passing a few closed doors, before knocking on one that was ajar and passing Dean’s blood to someone through the open door.

“I do like watching Jacob work,” the doctor said happily as the Caretakers gave Dean a shove and they started walking further along the corridor. It was strange to be naked like this, out in the open but Dean knew he would have to get used it. His cheeks were bright red with shame. He hoped that his family had already left and that Sam wouldn’t see him like this. 

They walked until they came through a door and they were suddenly in a very different room. Instead of the gleaming surfaces and glossy paint of the clinic, this room was more like a workshop. There were tools hung up on the walls and a stable door with the top half of the door swung open to let in the bright sunlight and a cool breeze. 

A man, in blue workmans overalls, was stoking a small fire in a grate. He looked up at them with a pleasant smile, his face was red and slightly sweaty from the heat of the fire. 

“New one, is it?” the man asked. “Bring it over here.”

At first, Dean didn’t understand what he meant, but then one of the Caretakers gave him a forceful shove and Dean stumbled forward. The doctor walked over to the open door and leaned out, letting out a relaxed sigh.

“Careful, Jacob,” she said, smiling at him. “We haven’t done its blood work yet.”

“Shame,” Jacob said, eyeing Dean speculatively. He smiled kindly and patted Dean’s cheek with a calloused hand. “You’re a pretty one, aren't you?”

Dean’s eyes darted to the doctor, who had turned away to look outside. He opened his mouth, not sure how he was going to ask for help, or what words he could use to persuade this alpha to go easy on him. 

“Tsk, tsk,” Jacob said, still smiling as he put a large finger over Dean’s lips and then pushed in. It felt like he was checking Dean’s teeth and gums. He wasn’t gentle but his finger was steady and confident. “There's a good omega, You’d be surprised how many megs are biters, which is a terrible way to start a friendship. And that’s what we’re going to be, won’t we? The clinic is a nice place, but it’s not where you’re going to be spending most of your Duty. You go into the clinic to get Donations, for checkups during your pregnancies and for births. Otherwise, you live out back, in the cowsheds.”

Jacob smiled proudly, his finger still resting against Dean’s teeth

“A word of advice, I’m not like Dr. Garcia over there. I’m not some fancy doctor with drugs and surgery. I’m a farmer and I like simple solutions to problems. There’s no need for omegas to be talking in the cowsheds. I like a bit of peace and quiet at work. I’m not going to cut off your tongue if you speak, some of the doctors like to ask you questions during your check-ups, and some of the alphas like to hear you talk during Donations. So, if you do talk, if you say a single word when you’re in the cowsheds then I’m going to muzzle you. That don’t sound to bad, does it? Thing is, you won’t take that muzzle off until you finish your Duty. “ Jacob moved his hand, cupping over Dean’s mouth and squeezing down. “You’ll have to live off liquids, your mouth will adapt to the constant pressure. The skin toughens up, the teeth move around.” 

He gave Dean’s mouth a final squeeze and then moved away. 

“Get him ready,” Jacob said to the Caretakers. “Hey, Doc,” Jacob called out as the Caretakers turned Dean over and bent him over the large table. “Do you remember 316?”

“Which one was that?” the doctor asked. The Caretakers each took one of Dean’s wrists and pulled him forward. He could feel the bones of his wrist scraping together and he bit his tongue rather than cry out. 

“Little blond, kept it muzzled from day one and it took seven years to do its Duty? Only got out a few weeks ago?”

“I remember, one of my neighbours raised it.”

“Really?” Dean could hear Jacob walking around the workshop, and the clattering of metal as he prepared whatever he was going to do to Dean. “Small world. I saw that bitch yesterday. He was wearing his muzzle, even though he’s a Citizen now!”

“Omega Citizen,” the doctor correct, “Uh-huh, my neighbour told me it hurts it to take the muzzle off nowadays. The surgeries would cost fifty grand to get it fixed.”

A hand slapped Deans naked backside. “Fifty grand, imagine that.” 

There was a long pause, and although Dean tried to control his breathing and strain to hear what was going on, he couldn't hear anything. 

“What’s he going to do with it? Him, I should say, now he’s an omega Citizen.”

“I’m not sure. I remember, before it,” the doctor made a frustrated sound, “he Presented, he used to play the flute. He wanted to be a professional musician. I can’t imagine that’ll happen now. If he’s lucky, he’ll end up getting sold to an alpha who doesn’t mind spending fifty grand just to get a decent looking, used up meg. It might happen, he’s only twenty-five, which is young for an omega to have finished its Duty.”

“Huh, I might put in an offer.” 

“You?” the doctor asked with a surprised tone. 

“Don’t see why not.”

The doctor didn’t comment but after a few seconds Jacob laughed. “I’m not throwing away fifty grand on an omega! But I got rather fond of that muzzle, there's no reason to take it off!”

The doctor laughed then too. “No, I suppose not.”

Something wet hit the top of Dean’s back. He gasped in surprise before realizing what it was. He was being sprayed with something. 

“Alright, time’s up. Listen here, 497, you’ve got a little chip burying its way into your spine as we speak. That marks you as Pied Flats Omega Breeding Centre property until you’ve finished your Duty and earned Citizenship. But that there is just another example of the difference between the clinic and the cowsheds. That’s a fancy high tech solution to a problem that farmers have been dealing with for thousands of years. I don’t believe that a chip is any use out here, in the real world. I like to look at my megs and know exactly who they are. I like knowing that everyone who ever fucks you will know you’ve served your Duty. So, what we do here is put a brand on you.”

Dean kicked back, quickly and angrily. It was almost a reflex. Even after everything else that had happened already, this was too much. 

“Yeah, even the best behaved omegas have a problem with that, but,” a hand grabbed his left ankle and pulled it to the side, clicking a cuff around it so that his leg was locked in place. He kicked out with his right leg, but a confident hand caught it and, pulling him into place, locked his other ankle down so that he splayed open, bent over and exposed. “But you’re gonna have to learn that I know what’s best for you.”

Jacob made an amused noise. 

“Make sure you use a condom,” the doctor cut in and Dean didn’t understand what she meant, why she would say that, until he felt a lubricated finger trailing down his spread ass cheeks and nudging at his virgin hole. 

“Seems a shame, when its this tight,” Jacob said, pushing a fingertip into Dean. 

“It’s only for a week or so, until I get the results of the blood work.” 

Dean panted. He’d been prepared, he’d readied himself for his Duty to be tough. He knew about Donations and he knew that Breeding Centers had to take steps to keep order, but John had always made it sound reasonable, a practical solution to the problem of a declining birth rate. He wanted to beg Jacob to stop, he wanted to beg for a little mercy, but he already knew that Jacob had none. 

“Yeah,” the finger withdrew. “Next week then. Or longer. Have you been a slutty meg, 497? Spreading your legs and picking up STDs? You better hope not!” He slapped Dean’s ass cheek painfully hard. 

“This is what’s going to happen, 497. The brands are up to temperature, so I’m going to go and get the first one. This is called strike branding. I’m going to hold it against your back until the skin is burnt all the way through your dermis and epidermis and just touching your subcutaneous. Now, those are some fancy words that I learned from the clinic doctors. What it means is, this is gonna hurt. And this is meant to hurt. It’s meant to prepare you for you Duty. 

“You don’t know me yet, 497, but I’m a big believer in preparation. See, that’s why I don’t think it’s enough to just give you three little brands. Four, Nine, Seven. That’s not meaningful enough. So I like to brand you with a few extra numbers. First of all there's your entry code, zero seven one seven. That’s the month and year you started serving your Duty. Then there's the clinic code; three, five, zero, which seems to me just as important. That way you’ll never forget us here at Pied Flats! So, let’s see now. 3500717497. Ten brands. Yeah, I think after ten brands you’ll be in the right frame of mind to start your Duty.”

The doctor laughed, high pitched and happy. “Goodness, it’s going to stink in here.”

Jacob patted Dean’s asshole, his slippery finger nudging at the rim, circling slowly. Dean could feel him making larger and larger circles as he forced Dean open.

“And there's another thing that helps get you in the right frame of mind for Donations. That's getting fucked. Shame we can’t go raw. These here brands have to heat up to 500 degrees to do their job, and me pushing them into your skin cools them down. I don’t have any duplicate brands so I’m gonna have to heat up the brands again each time.”

His finger pushed into Dean, making him squirm up the table, pulling at the cuffs on his ankles. 

“I guess I’ll fuck you after the first three brands, while I wait for the zero to heat up again. We’re gonna have to re-heat the seven up twice too. Ben, you can fuck him after the first seven and, Chris, you go after the second seven.”

A second finger pushed into Dean and he sobbed, trying to swallow back the sound. The fingers moved in and out, before yanking out. 

“That sound like a good plan to everyone?”

The two caretakers gave enthusiastic answers. “Yes, sir.” “Yes Jacob.”

Dean didn’t dare make a sound. 

The brand took him by surprise. He didn’t hear Jacob approach. There was only a split second of warning, of sudden heat above his back, that was getting hotter and hotter and then pressing into him. 

He screamed in agony, unable to stop himself. The heat was still pressing into him, the pain was too much. It blocked out every thought and he couldn’t even breathe through the tears that were flowing out of him. 

Dean slowly came back to awareness, the low buzzing sound started to form into words and he realized he was listening to the voices of the alphas talking. 

“I don’t like it when the numbers are all in a straight line, it looks too neat,” said a voice that Dean didn’t recognise. It must be the voice, Dean realized, of one of the Caretakers who was going to fuck him in a few minutes. 

“Exactly!” Dr Garcia agreed heartily. “For thousands of years omegas were seen as these alluring beauties. The way Jacob makes them look shows the whole world how ugly they are. He’s an artist, revealing to the world how sluttish megs are and taking their power from them.”

“Well now,” Jacob said shyly, “I don’t know about that. I just like making them scream. I like it when they think I’m gonna muzzle them just for screaming during their branding.”

He laughed and Dean closed his eyes in pain and relief. He wasn’t going to be muzzled for his outburst. 

“I’ve got a little secret though,” Jacob said, almost as if he were telling a joke, as Dean heard him take the next brand from the fire. “Sometimes I do muzzle them for screaming too loud!”

#### John’s story

John kept his eye on Sam as Dean was taken away, making sure his son didn’t try and keep Dean from serving his Duty. 

“Will you be making a Donation today, Alpha Winchester?” the beta receptionist asked brightly. 

“Oh,” John paused, licking his lips. He hadn’t made a Donation in far too long. “Yeah, yeah, I will.”

The beta smiled widely.

“Perhaps you should show Citizen Winchester to the Donation room,” the alpha doctor who was sorting through his pile of papers said, with a smile. The little beta woman blushed, simpering as she gave John a coy smile. 

“It would be my pleasure.”

She stood up from chair, and John saw that the beta was no taller than Mary had been. 

“This way, Citizen, please.”

John took a few steps after her before remembering Sam. The boy had already started to trail after him. 

“You stay here,” John said, annoyed. “I won’t be long.”

The Donation room was just around the corner from the reception, but the beta woman hovered in front of it, clearly want to spend more time with John.

“I could wait for you, if you like,” she twirled a length of her hair around her finger and opened the door opposite the Donation Room. “This is a supply closet. Maybe I could wait in here, I could help,” she licked her lips, “Help clean you up after your donation.”

John smirked, “Sure. I hate the smell of meg slime.”

She simpered again, giggling lightly, “We’re all,” she bit her lip, tilted her head down and peered up at him through her eyelashes, “We’re all very grateful for your Donation, Alpha Winchester.”

“You’re welcome,” John smirked, turning to open the Donation room door with a swagger. It looked a lot like the thousands of other Donation rooms he’d seen all across the country. A desperate looking omea was strapped to an examining table, his legs raised up in stirrups and spread wide enough that an alpha could comfortably make his donation. By the omega’s head, a doctor was sitting on a stool, gently petting the omega’s hair with one hand while the other hand gripped a clip board. John’s smile widened as he shut the door behind him, with one last glance back at the beta who was going to be waiting for him. 

“Good morning, Citizen,” the doctor greeted him coolly. “I’m Dr Wrenbridger, I’m going to be supervising your Donation.”

“Morning,” John nodded to him, not particularly interested in being sociable.

“It’s ready for your donation.”

John blinked, taken aback by the doctors phrasing. The words seemed especially callous considering how kind the man looked as he stroked the omega’s hair. John had known that different Omega Breeding Centers treated their omegas in different ways, but he’d never paid much attention to those differences. He certainly hadn’t bothered to research which one he dropped Dean off at. Nonetheless, it was good to know that this Center would take a firm hand with their omegas. This was just the sort of treatment that Dean needed. John had always been too soft on the boy. 

“Is _it?_ ”

The doctor cooed softly at the omega. 

“At Pied Flats, we believe that depersonalisation helps omegas serve their Duty. It makes becoming an Omega Citizen more of an honor, after they’ve finished their Duty.”

The omega whimpered, liquid dripping out of its hole. 

“Would you like to Declare your Donation today?”

“No,” John grunted, his eyes already fixed on the loose, wet hole. At least one other Citizen had already made a Donation. The omega’s hole was red and puffy and leaking cum. “No, I’ve got enough kids already.”

“Whenever you’re ready then, Citizen.”

John was already hard and it was a relief to pull his cock out. He pushed his pants down to his knees so he wouldn’t have to wash the meg slime off his clothes and jerked his cock a few times. 

There was something so pathetic about omegas; whining, mewling, needy little creatures. They were so weak that John could never make a Donation without being slightly disgusted. He pushed his cock into the meg’s hole, forcing it in as quickly as he could. He wanted it to hurt, he wanted the meg to remember him, no matter how many other Donations it received today. 

Its hole was already loose and, no matter how hard John pounded, it wasn’t enough. 

“Fucking omega,” John swore, “Fucking loose slut.”

He paused, pulling out so that only the head of his cock was still inside the omega. The meg’s cock was soft and small, John’s lips curled in disgust. He pulled a hand back and slapped the omega’s balls. The omega cried out in pain and the doctor burst out laughing. 

The omega tightened around John’s cock, tightening as the omega began to cry inarticulately. 

“You know,” the doctor started talking. John kept his eyes on the omega’s face as it writhed in pain. “This one’s only managed two live births. Its miscarried twice since the last birth.”

John spared the doctor a glance. The alpha was still stroking the omega’s hair, watching dreamily as the omega cried. 

“I’ve been thinking about castrating it. Would you like that, 382? Testosterone can inhibit fetal development. I bet you wouldn’t miscarry if I cut off your useless testicles.”

John groaned. He was breeding this creature! There was a scar running up the omega’s belly. All Omega Breeding Centers performed Caesarian sections. The scars of multiple surgeries were disgusting, but natural birth could loosen an omega too much, which might affect an alpha’s pleasure during Donations. 

John ran a finger along the scar, pushing at the thin skin there. He Imagined that Dean would look like this soon; his legs spread wide open and accepting Donation from Alpha after Alpha until he was fucked full. 

Fuck, he was so close.

He imagined Dean, tied down and having his useless meg nuts cut off. His useless omega son would scream in pain as he was gelded. His tiny little dick would look even smaller once his balls were taken off.

“That's it, that's it, you slut, take it,” he pushed into the omega, his knot swelling quickly as he came, locking him into the omega who was whimpering in pain.

John closed his eyes, trying to block out the sight and sound of the anonymous meg. He came again, pumping another load into the nameless body. He waited a few seconds for his knot to start to go down and then yanked out, knowing he was injuring the omega.

“Thank you for you Donation, Citizen,” the doctor said formally. The hand that had been stroking the omega’s hair suddenly clenched into a fist, grabbing a chunk of the omega’s hair and jerking its head up. It squealed in pain. “What do you say, 382? What do you say to the Citizen who gave you his Donation and helped you serve your Duty? What do you say to the Alpha who might have impregnated you and saved your tiny balls?”

“Thank you, Citizen,” the omega said meekly.

John sneered down at it, wiping the worst of its slick off his cock and onto its inner thigh. He pulled up his clothes and gave the omega’s balls another hard slap. 

“You should just cut them off now,” John said over the noise of the omega’s scream, he was already walking out the door. 

The supply closet door was half open and the beta receptionist was standing there, looking nervous as she waited for him. John grinned, closing the Donation room door with a bang and walking over to the beta. 

“Hi,” the woman said coyly, “I wasn’t sure if you’d still want me after you’d Donated.”

John kicked the supply closet door shut with his foot and put his hand on her shoulder. 

“Oh, baby,” he laughed to himself at how naively she smiled up at him, how stupid she was to be fooled by such a meaningless endearment. “I couldn’t forget about you. I need you to clean that meg stink off me.”

He put his hand on her other shoulder and pushed her down. She fell to her knees with a surprised gasp, but really, John wondered, what else had she expected? His pants were still undone and it was easy to push them down with one hand. 

“Go on,” John said, trying to sound encouraging, “Lick it for me.”

The beta hesitated, opening her lips but not moving. John growled in annoyance. The omega slick would take ages to dry and he really wanted to get it off him. He stepped forward shoving his crotch against her face and she, finally, put his cock in her mouth. 

He closed his eyes and felt a sudden wave of nostalgia. He used to do this with Mary after giving Donations. Betas couldn’t get pregnant. Mary and him could never have kids, but she’d wanted to have a family with him. 

Dean and Sam were biologically his. She’d been so eager to have kids. She used to come with him to the Omega Breeding Centers, standing with him while he filled in the forms for a Declared Donation - the type of Donations that meant he’d get to keep any kids that resulted from his Donation. She’d wait in the car for him while he Donated and then, afterwards, before he could even start the car, she’d lean over, undo his pants and clean his cock of omega slime. 

Fuck, he’d never stop missing her. 

He looked down at the beta sucking his cock. He was too old to get hard again so soon, even though she was swallowing him down excitedly. It was disgusting. This pathetic beta who dared to do what Mary had always done for him. He grabbed her nose, squeezing her nostrils closed and forced his soft dick further into her mouth. She tried to push him off, her small hands pushing against his thighs but he held her in place by grabbing the back of her head. This was much better than her sorry excuse for a blow job. This was real power. He could feel her throat convulsing around him and he wished he could fuck it. He wished he could get hard again and knot her mouth so that she would be stuck, her mouth gaping wide, around his knot. He pulled back and saw that her face had turned blue. 

How dare she be such a useless imitation of Mary! He tucked himself back in his pants as she slumped down, gasping for breath through coughs and the snot streaming down her face. 

He slapped her. The palm of his hand hitting her cheek with full force and sending her tumbling to the floor. 

“Barren cunt,” he said, not hiding his disgust as he walked away. At least his cock was clean now.

Sam was sitting in the waiting room, looking pale and upset. John slowed down as he approached. Dean had always been the one to take care of Sam. John sighed and headed towards the exit. He supposed, at thirteen, Sam was old enough to look after himself nowadays. Little footsteps hurried after him and John heard a sad snuffle. He stepped out of the clinic, leaving the nicely air conditioned foyer, and facing the dry heat. The clinic was the only building in the otherwise flat landscape. He’d known for years that Dean would do his Duty at eighteen, but it was only just dawning on him that he might actually miss the various ways that Dean was useful to him. 

“What’s wrong with you?” John asked gruffly. He didn’t want the boy to turn out weak, or thinking it was normal to go around crying. 

“I don't want to be an omega.”

John relaxed. That was a pretty normal fear. The boy hadn’t Presented yet, but he’d already begun to show signs that meant he’d be an alpha. The kid was quick to anger and possessive of anything he felt was his: already a territorial alpha. It was going to be annoying, as Sam got older, to deal with a young, rival alpha, but John thought it would be worth it. As an alpha, Sam would continue the Winchester family name. 

Nevertheless, he didn’t want to reassure Sam too much. A little fear was good for instilling humility. 

“Come on,” he walked around the side of the clinic to the parking lot but then walked passed the cars the area at the back of the clinic. There was a high wire fence, topped with barbed wire, that marked out a large field. Set in the middle of the field were about ten large wooden sheds. This was where the omegas stayed while they did their Duty. A few pregnant omegas were walking along the edge of the fence, their tits and bellies large as they waddled along slowly. 

“You think anyone wants to be a meg, son? Look at them! Thing is, they look human, and they breed human but if you or I were told we had to do Duty, well, we’d never stand for it. God, that bitch is muzzled! Ha! That’s something I wish I saw more of!”

“But,” Sam interrupted, tears streaming down his face. John turned away, peering through the fence eager to catch a glimpse of Dean. 

“No, you’re not listening. If you Present as meg then that means that you deserve to be in there. Your body knows what’s right for you.”

Sam nodded slowly as John stared at him, trying to force him to understand. 

He clapped Sam on the back, suddenly happy. It had been a good day. He’d made a Donation and he’d got rid of the useless omega that he’d been stuck raising alone. 

“Let’s get back to the motel,” John said, starting to whistle cheerily as he walked back to the car. Without Dean nagging at him, he was going to have so much more time to Hunt. “You know, I might come back tomorrow and make another Donation,” John said as he unlocked the car, his mood souring as he noticed Sam was still crying. He turned the keys in the ignition with an angry sigh and wondered if Dean would be taking Donations tomorrow.

#### Sam’s story

Sam watched Dean walk away. He wanted to run after him and drag him back, but he knew he couldn’t. Dean had warned him so many times that this day would come. He knew Dean would come back to him as soon as he could. 

“Will you be making a Donation today, Alpha Winchester?” the beta receptionist asked John.

“Oh,” John said, not seeming to care about Dean, now that he was out of sight. “Yeah, yeah, I will.”

“Perhaps you should show Citizen Winchester to the Donation room,” the alpha doctor said.

Sam started following after John, not sure where he was supposed to go now that Dean was gone. 

“You stay here, I won’t be long,” John said, nodding towards the waiting room chairs. Sam nodded and traipsed away. As he passed the reception desk, the doctor spoke to him. 

“Do you know why your father brought you here today?”

“Um,” Sam said, confused. “My brother’s here to do his Duty.” 

“No,” the doctor shook his head. “No, that’s not right. Citizen Winchester came here today so that we could run some tests on you. I assumed he’d already told you about it.”

“Uh, no,” Sam said cautiously, looking down the corridor that John had disappeared down. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“Abeyant Winchester,” the doctor began angrily. It wasn’t often that anyone used Sam’s formal title and it made him jump to attention as if he’d done something wrong. “Follow me, this won’t take more than a few minutes. You’ll be done before Citizen Winchester has finished his Donation.” 

Sam hesitated but the doctor was already walking away. With one last glance in the direction that John had gone, Sam turned and headed after the doctor, into the opposite direction. 

“Good,” the doctor said, turning a corner and opening a door. “In you go, in you go.”

The room looked a lot like a dentist’s office. There was a large chair in the middle of the room and a desk running along the wall with lots of loose pieces of paper and small pieces of equipment that looked vaguely medical. 

“Sit down, sit down.”

Sam sat back cautiously, his hands gripping hold of the chair’s armrests. In one fluid movement, the doctor bent over and pulled a strap across Sam’s left wrist, pinning him in place. 

“What are you doing?!?” 

“Calm down,” the doctor said encouragingly, “The test can be a little uncomfortable but it’s important that you stay still, so I’m going to have to strap you in. There’s nothing to be alarmed about.”

Sam frowned angrily. “When did my Dad agree to this? Because he never mentioned it before.”

The doctor didn’t answer. He just moved to the other side of the chair and pulled out another wrist restraint.

“Don't,” Sam yelled, “I want to go now.” 

Sam put his free right hand on his lap and glared up at the doctor. 

The problem was the man was an alpha, and much stronger than Sam. He grabbed Sam’s wrist and, holding it against the armrest with one hand, cuffed Sam’s right wrist into place with one hand.

“You’re being ridiculous, Abeyant Winchester,” the doctor stood up with a sigh. “Although it’s probably not your fault. This sort of aggression is typical of alpha latency.”

Sam stilled at that. Omega Breeding Centers were bad places for omegas but, as long as the doctor thought he was an alpha, or soon going to be an alpha, then Sam knew he was safe. 

“That means,” the doctor bent down and tightened the cuff around Sam’s right wrist, “That your aggression shows that you’re likely to be an alpha.”

“I know what it means!”

The doctor smiled and went to sit down; Sam tilted his head back to watch the doctor as he walked behind Sam’s chair.

“Very good. See, that’s actually the problem.”

The doctor pulled his chair closer to Sam, meeting Sam’s stare with an earnest expression. 

“The birth rate is falling at such a drastic rate. We all say we want to do whatever is necessary to keep humanity alive, but do we really mean it? We sacrifice the omegas to their Duty because omegas are easy targets. We only ask for five live births before we release them from their Duty, but it’s taking longer and longer for omegas to finish their Duty. When this clinic first opened the average Duty took five years, nowadays omegas regularly take ten years and, even then, the infant mortality rate is rising. Really, we need to change the Law. Duty shouldn’t be five live births, it should be five children who reach the age of three per omega. 

“But,” the doctor swung his chair back forth, moving slowly from left to right, the casters of his chair creaking softly, “I digress. I can’t change the Law, I can’t make omegas more fertile, but I can still do my part. We don’t need any more alphas, Abeyant Winchester, but we do need a lot more omegas.”

Sam shook his head. He did not like what this man was saying but he was clearly building to something. John definitely hadn’t been told about Sam being tested for anything, this doctor had tricked him! This doctor was insane! He was trying to do something terrible!

“Calm down,” the doctor put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, rubbing him through the thin material of his T-shirt. 

“Before I continue, I should tell you that this is an Omega Breeding Center,” he paused to laugh under his breath, “Everyone here is very used to certain noises, so there's really no point screaming and struggling. Second of all, I’m not going to do what you think I am, I promise. In a minute, I’m going to release you and you’ll be fine. I’m not going to lay a finger on you.”

He paused, watching Sam’s reaction. 

Sam took a deep breath through his nose. Would it be worth screaming for help? The doctor was telling the truth about these Centers, no-one cared if they heard screaming. But he didn’t understand what this doctor was intending to do, or what he was promising he wouldn’t do to Sam.

“What are you going to do to me?”

The doctor laughed and, with a final pat to Sam’s arm, leaned back in his chair.

“There are three ways to make an omega. 

“The first way is castration. It’s actually not the most effective form of omegatization, but it can be performed at any stage of life. However an alpha, or an unPresented youth such as yourself, is equally likely to become a neutered beta as an omega. Personally, I don’t think a fifty per cent chance is a good enough reason to remove your testicles. 

“There is another way. Insemination with familial DNA. That has a hundred per cent success rate on unPresented youths! It would be tougher to do in your case. I could probably get hold of Citizen Winchester’s seminal fluid after his Donation, but that seems needlessly complicated. Also, it doesn’t fit into my plans. You see, there will come a time when the government realizes that it’s necessary to forcefully turn some people into omegas. It will be an unpleasant realization and a lot of people find the idea of Familial Donations,” he paused and then shrugged, “Ethically dubious.” 

“In order to avoid all that squeamishness, I have found a third way to make an omega.”

He scooted his chair backwards, away from Sam, and picked something up from his desk. 

“This is Grenalin. It was initially developed to jump start omegas Heats during their Duty, but it proved too potent. The Heats this induces in an omega are so powerful that they proved fatal in clinical trials. Quite by accident, I discovered the effects this has on the unPresented. Grenalin has a hundred per cent omegatization rate. 

“All it takes is one little injection.”

Sam’s fell mouth open in horror. 

The doctor took the cap off the syringe and squirted a small amount of the clear liquid out of the end of the syringe. 

“There are some side effects that I should tell you about before we go ahead with this.”

“Don’t!” Sam yelled.

“First of all,” the doctor continued as if Sam hadn’t spoken, “It will cause a considerable amount of penile shrinkage. Now, natural omegas do tend to be small, however this will be even more pronounced. But, I don’t think that's something you need worry about, as, well, it won’t matter because omegas don’t use their penises for anything except urinating! And, if you do complete your Duty, become an omega Citizen and some Citizen buys you, well, there's still a good chance that he’d dock your penis purely for the aesthetics of it. So, I think you’ll agree, that’s not much of a loss. 

“The second side effect will be cramping. That should last, intermittently, for the next few months. That should be self-evident, or,” he smiled gently, “Maybe it won’t be. Your reproductive organs will be re-arranging themselves and that can cause a fair amount of pain. Even natural omegas experience cramping just after Presentation.

“Now, the last side effect is the kicker. Natural omegas don’t have to deal with this, but it’s just how the Grenalin interacts with the brain and there's not much I can do. There will, unfortunately, be a considerable loss of IQ. I don’t suppose it really matters, because, with your Duty, you wouldn’t have time to go to university. But this is probably the end of your GED dreams as well.”

“Don’t do this,” Sam begged, “Let me go!”

The doctor pursed his lips in a fakely sympathetic smile and brought the needle closer to Sam. 

“Don’t,” Sam screamed, pulling away as far as he could from the descending needle, “My dad will kill you for this, I swear he will. He’ll hunt you down. Don’t do this!”

“Oh,” the doctor leaned closer, the needle punctured Sam’s skin but the Grenalin was still in the syringe. “I doubt you’ll be able to find the words to tell him what happened.”

He injected the Grenalin into Sam.

Sam blinked, he was panting in terror, but he didn’t feel any different. Maybe the Grenalin hadn’t worked. Maybe his body was strong enough that the Grenalin wouldn’t effect him. 

“It didn’t work!” he spat at the doctor. The man smiled pleasantly and put the empty syringe in the bin. 

“I’m going to release your arms now and I want you to stay calm and not try to hurt me.”

Sam snorted. As soon as he was free he was going to kill him. 

The doctor released one cuff and then the other. Sam waited until he was completely free before surging forward, his right fist aimed straight for the doctor’s vulnerable throat. 

The alpha caught his fist mid-air and tutted softly. 

“You really will need to learn to be more respectful. I’m going to tell you one more thing. You might forget this, because you’re a stupid meg now, but I’m going to make you a promise. 

“After you Present, your father is going to register you with OBS, and when you turn eighteen he’s going to bring you to an OBC. I don’t know which Breeding Center it will be, but it doesn’t matter. Because I know who you are, and I’m going to keep track of you. When you’re lying in that Donation room, with your little shrunken cock and your stupid, empty head, I’m going to be there. Here’s my promise, I promise I will give you your first Donation.”

The doctor let go of his fist and Sam let his hand fall down. He felt utterly beaten. His whole life was over, because of one little injection. 

The doctor opened the door and, taking Sam’s hand, led him back into the corridor. 

“Don't worry, I wouldn't expect you to remember the way back to the waiting room. Not anymore!” He laughed; the thing was, Sam didn’t remember how he’d got back here. He remembered everything that had happened, every word the doctor had said, but there were so many corners and turns in the clinic that anyone would get lost. 

He let the doctor squeeze his hand and didn’t pull away. All his previous rage was fading away now and he couldn’t quite muster the energy to be angry anymore.

The waiting room was empty when they arrived. The beta behind the front desk was missing and there was no sign of John. 

“Sit down,” the doctor said, and Sam obeyed him automatically. The doctor squatted down in front of Sam’s chair, tilting his head to look Sam in the eye, “I’m going to go now, so you’re going to have to wait for Citizen Winchester to finish his Donation.”

He smiled kindly at Sam as he stood up and ruffled Sam’s hair, “See you in four and a half years.” 

Sam listened to him walk away, tears pooling in his eyes.


End file.
